


Songs Without Words

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Crossdressing, Drag Queens, Gender Roleplay, Lingerie, M/M, Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-12
Updated: 2013-05-12
Packaged: 2017-12-11 15:05:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/800069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He grabs his Quotationary and pulls out the silk négligée he keeps inside of its hollowed out pages. The chemise is fragile and soft, and he feels delicate when he pulls it on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Songs Without Words

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [Mating Games](http://mating-games.livejournal.com). Full disclosure: this isn't my normal kink and is waaay outside of my comfort zone when writing. I had fun with it though because I feel like anything goes during the Pornathon, ya'know? Title taken from Mendelssohn's Lieder Ohne Worte - 3 Gondellieder (because that's what I was listening to when I wrote this).

He’s home early from practice and father’s at the station until late, so he decides to use the time to indulge. He grabs his Quotationary and pulls out the silk négligée he keeps inside of its hollowed out pages. The chemise is fragile and soft, and he feels delicate when he pulls it on. 

The fabric is Tiffany blue and came with a matching pair of lacy panties. When he pulls them up and settles into them, stirrings of arousal tingle deep in his groin. He steps back and admires his appearance in the mirror. 

He feels pretty. Desirable. 

He reaches into the back of his nightstand drawer and pulls out a battered pencil case he’s had since the 4th grade. It houses a small collection of cosmetics, acquired a few weeks after his first trip to Jungle. Miss Jenn Herd drove him to a Nordstrom 70 miles away and said, “ _Suga’ plum, if you’re gunna do it, do it right._ ” She helped him select the chemise and even paid for half of his designer make-up (all of which she chose).

He doesn’t know what ‘doing it right’ entails, but he appreciates the sentiment behind it. 

As he carefully applies a coat of mascara and lip gloss, anticipation and excitement coil low in his belly. He’s doesn’t feel ready to attempt eyeliner or foundation yet, but he’ll work his way there eventually. 

Maybe. 

Either way, he likes what the mascara does to his lashes - the way it makes them black and long, makes his eyes large and bright. He looks beautiful like this. Sexy.

His erection throbs, heavy and hot, but he doesn’t touch it. He instead moves his hands down his stomach, savoring the petal-soft silk and wonders how differently he would feel if he had curves instead of straight lines, if he were soft and supple instead of lithe and hard. If breasts filled out the cups of his chemise instead of air. 

He wonders how it would be to slide his hand into his panties and feel slick folds instead of a rigid cock. He imagines his fingers sliding through soft wetness, his body ready and open in an invitation, being filled instead of emptied out.

He moves to his bed, lays back, and spreads his legs open. He slips his hand under his lacy panties, mindful of the fragile lace, and tentatively pushes them down behind his balls. He grabs his lube from the nightstand and squeezes a healthy amount on his palm. When he works the cold wetness up and down his erection, he closes his eyes and imagines it’s his own wetness. He has a clit instead of a cock, and if he slides his fingers down a bit more, he’ll find himself wet and open. 

He imagines Danny finding him like this, soft and beautiful instead of spastic, manic motion. He imagines Derek.

_Derek_. 

He groans picturing Derek’s hands, hot and possessive, holding his legs open to make room for himself. Derek would push in, unyielding, and claim his body; he would write his name in bruises and bites. Derek would rub him, lighting him up from the inside-out as he fucked him raw. 

Derek would lay waste to him.

The sound of skin slapping skin is wet, obscene, and echoing with his pleasure. He squeezes his shaft and rubs the glans, and shudders deeply when he pinches his nipple through lace and silk with his other hand. He thumbs down the dorsal artery as cracks fissure throughout his body and tight pleasure floods him. His fist squeezes and pumps down his shaft; with every grip and twist of his wrist, his body tightens and threatens to break apart, threatens to fracture into something new. He’s shaking, wet, and such a good girl.

_Derek’s girl._

Derek would love him like this, would think he was perfect, pretty, _pristine_. Derek would smudge his lipstick and leave his own marks in its place. Derek would leave him heavy, full, and...

His balls tighten and for one crystalline moment, he’s the most beautiful girl in the world. His toes curl and his fingers claw before he’s sloppy and spent, body crashing back to the mattress from where he’d arched up. His heartbeat is loud in his ears and his panties are filthy with his release. He wonders, briefly, if there’s something wrong with him. He dismisses the thought quickly with a sigh and moves to clean himself up before his dad gets home.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm Cornmouse at [eljay](http://cornmouse.livejournal.com) and [tumblr](http://cornmouse.tumblr.com). Cheers!


End file.
